


The Break-In

by JennTheMastermind



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Bellarke comfort, Bellarke steam, Coffee Shops, College AU, F/M, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, all for that slow burn, bellarke fluff - Freeform, bellarke modern au, but not too slow because that's bullshit, really tho that epilogue gets pretty steamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennTheMastermind/pseuds/JennTheMastermind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When locked out of his apartment, Bellamy resorts to his usual method to get back in: breaking into 32B below and using the fire escape. The old tenet was completely indifferent to his need, but the new resident has a few issues when Bellamy forces his way into her apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 32B

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a prompt from sassyfuckingsterek.tumblr.com. I'm truealphabellamy.tumblr.com !  
> I'm basing this off both the books and the show, so spoilers for the books are present! Enjoy!

Bellamy hesitated with a grimacing sigh, his fist poised above the apartment door and ready to knock. Apartment 32B: underneath his 42B. He’d never thought he’d miss the old tenant; a balding, greasy ex-con who habitually stared at his sister and sold illicit drugs even though that’s what he’d done time for fifteen years ago. But, at that embarrassing moment, Bellamy would’ve appreciated the old creep’s incapability of curiosity and indifference to his need for access to his fire escape.  
Bellamy could only hope the new resident of Waldenside Complex would be as uninterested as he let his knuckles rap against the red door.  
His heart hammered with impatience in his chest. His hands were lightly placed on his hips and his right heel bounced as he waited for some response. Bellamy stared down without actually focusing on the grime build-up of the hallway’s baseboards.  
After it felt like his heart had beat a hundred times, Bellamy sighed and resorted to pulling up the frayed cuff of his jeans. Assuming no one was inside the apartment, he procured the small switchblade he kept constantly in his boot.  
As he set the blade to the lock and began to work it open, Bellamy didn’t really pause to think about it. He’d done the same thing when Greasy wasn’t there. He’d picked plenty of locks before that. Growing up in Walden, a riverside town that was only a half-step up from the slums, meant acquiring a colorful skill set of useful tricks that weren’t always legal.  
He and Octavia had moved out of one of the worst areas of the city after their mother’s suicide. They’d gone into a foster program, Bellamy counting down the days until he turned eighteen and could get his little sister out of the seemingly straight system. Who could imagine that a city-run program was actually as corrupt as the rest of the city?  
Now that he was twenty and Octavia sixteen, they lived about a mile from Ark University, Bellamy’s school and the local college of the suburban, well-to-do town of Pheonix. They were still just within Walden city lines, but it was the safest and cheapest place Bellamy and Octavia could afford. They were even close enough for Octavia to continue her junior year at Pheonix Academy, the better high school alternative to Walden High where he’d gone. If anything, Bellamy was determined to give his sister the best he could and keep her as safe as possible.  
Thank God for financial aid and sympathetically lenient landlords.  
Nevertheless, that was the reason he needed to get into 32B; legally and with permission or not.  
The lock clicked and Bellamy cautiously opened the door, shaking his head at the lack of deadbolts the new tenet had on it. He closed the door silently behind him. Turning the lock just as it’d been before, he marveled at how neat the apartment looked without Greasy covering it in pizza boxes, cigarette ash, and a haze with a smell more unpleasant than the cigarettes.  
For the things that weren’t in boxes, everything was clean and organized despite perhaps the open books and half empty coffee cup on the table. Bellamy glanced down, surprised to find the floors were actually made of wood and not dirty laundry and adult magazines.  
The layout of the apartment was identical to his own, he knew from previous experiences, so Bellamy headed toward the right hand doorway and the small kitchenette beyond. There was a window there with the fire escape just outside it.  
The stairs of the escape were just in sight when his heart stopped with the text tone of a phone. Bellamy turned around; his blood turned to ice, thawed by the skin-deep heat of his shock before it coursed through his body in heavy beats. His fingers chilled by the process, he saw the light of the phone on the table beside the open books. The sound of running water reached him from behind the cracked door opposite him. He hadn’t noticed the sound before over the blood rushing in his ears.  
Light and steam filtered from the opening to the bathroom and Bellamy knew he should run to the kitchen window. However, the mind’s commands and the body’s responses are often not quite the same thing.  
It was this failure to react that caused him to still be standing statuesquely like the inexperienced, first-time-trying-a-B&E criminal that he wasn’t when a girl with wet blonde hair walked out of the bathroom.  
She froze, her azure eyes staring owlishly at him and a toothbrush stuck in her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed from the steam of the bathroom. They made her pink, mildly-covered-in-toothpaste lips all the more bright against fair skin most people would consider a minority in Walden. She wore dark jeans that hugged her legs and hips, coupled with long navy blue socks bunched around her ankles, and a grey v-necked shirt. The girl couldn’t have been much older than eighteen.  
Gathering something resembling control over his body, Bellamy made to lift his hands in a gesture of harmlessness. He knew it couldn’t be a sign of innocence; he had broken into her apartment.  
That small movement sent her running forward, toothbrush falling from her mouth in a successful rush to grab the bat she had leaning against the wall. She took a defensive stance; her blue eyes turned to hardened steel in an accusatory and intensely furious glare. Whatever soft color that had brushed her cheeks was replaced the strain in her jaw.  
The girl raised the wooden bat as though to swing at him and Bellamy was finally freed from his icy paralysis.  
“Hey! 42B! My name’s Bellamy Blake!”  
“What the hell are you doing in my apartment, 42B Bellamy Blake?” The girl twisted her grip around the bat and gave no sign of relenting.  
“I just need to use your fire escape!” Bellamy raised his hands higher as she gave a slight movement of the bat. He tried to keep his voice calm, but it was difficult when his pulse was drumming with adrenaline. “I’m locked out of my apartment right above yours.”  
“My apartment was locked, too. Why don’t you just break into your own, then, ass?”  
Bellamy narrowed his eyes, his anxiety and fear giving way to a steadily building frustration. He didn’t like having a weapon, no matter what it was, trained on him and the girl seemed in no way willing to even loosen her grip let alone lower it.  
“Deadbolts, Princess,” he quipped. “You might want to consider getting some of your own.”  
“Deadbolts lock from the inside,” she tilted her head in feigned amusement. “What, did you manage to lock yourself outside with inside bolts? That’s really amazing. Tell me more while I call the cops.”  
Bellamy clenched his jaw, “My sister, Octavia, locked me out. We had an argument. Now I need to get back inside. Your fire escape leads right to our window. That’s all I want.”  
“If that’s all you want why didn’t you just try knocking, Bellamy Blake?”  
“I did.” Anger smoldered in his chest. The longer he spent dancing around pointed insults with this girl was longer Octavia spent alone and upset. “Can I go, now? You can walk me to the fire escape, if you’d like.”  
Bellamy paused, glancing at her open books on the table and seeing a notebook and pen beside them. He looked back at the girl, motioning with his eyes to where he slowly sidestepped to the table. She moved oppositely, just as slow and forever vigilant with her raised bat.  
“Look,” Bellamy implored, picking up the pen and writing, “this is my phone number, my name, my address, where I work, where I go to school; anything you could use to tell the cops if you do decide to call them. But, I need to get to my sister.”  
He dropped the pen when he was finished and for the first time hesitance accentuated the girl’s unforgiving expression. She twisted her grip on the bat again, but in a looser way. Her blue eyes traveled his body and Bellamy got the distinct impression she was memorizing what he looked like. Only more information for the police, he thought.  
“Can I go?” He asked.  
The girl caught his eyes again and gave a slight nod, jerking her head to the kitchenette window.  
Bellamy sighed with relief and dropped his hands, moving to the window after breathing a quick, “Thank you.”  
He didn’t stop to look back at her after his feet hit the metal of the fire escape, three stories above the alley flush with the Walden River. He needed to get to Octavia and he hoped beyond anything she hadn’t locked the window, as well. Even still, Bellamy continued to see the girl’s wide, blue stare turned confidently hard as his heart raced against himself.


	2. Any Bets?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bets are on for the argument ensuing in 42B, but Clarke has better things to do: like class at Ark University where she still can't be rid of Bellamy Blake.

Clarke slung her bag over her shoulder, pulling her blonde hair out of the way before stopping in front of the door. Upset and muffled voices filtered to her from the ceiling. She looked up, her ears straining to perhaps hear something of the argument upstairs. If that ass was going to break into her apartment, she’d be sure to watch him carefully.  
Her mother had warned her about moving from Pheonix to Walden, spouting off crime statistics like she would commands in surgery. Clarke had slowly been trying to communicate to Abby for weeks she didn’t need to be treated like a child. It wasn’t until she finally held her position, confidently and unwaveringly, after making it clear she was in charge of her own life did her mother grow silent.  
Still, Clarke hadn’t imagined that if crime were to knock on her door it would be literally or on her first morning of classes at the University. She’d only just moved into Waldenside Complex three days ago, but everything had been rather quiet.  
A girl’s voice came to her, loud and saturated with frustration from above. Clarke’s heart skipped at the suddenness of the shouting. It was followed by a low and rumbling voice tight with vexation and feigning calm.  
42B Bellamy Blake, Clarke recognized, shaking her head and grinding her teeth.  
Perhaps it was because of the alarming circumstances of their meeting, but Bellamy’s image was frozen in her mind. The thought of him created an apprehensive feeling in her gut, making her chest constrict and her pulse jump.  
With the voices overhead quiet, Clarke stepped into the hallway to see two of her neighbors leaning near their doorway and staring at the ceiling. Across from her was a girl about her age whose black hair was tied in a ponytail. She wore an amused smile on her face but the boy behind her, with brown eyes and the hair color to equate it, looked mildly concerned.  
“Any bets on what it is this time?” A voice spoke from her right.  
Resting against her closed door, hand still on the knob behind her, Clarke looked over to see two boys. One was taller than his friend, with mused brown hair and tinted goggles on his head. The other, the one who’d spoken, wore a red jacket and a bag over his shoulder.  
“Ten dollars says O caught him getting hot with that Roma girl,” the goggled boy said with a mischievously filthy grin.  
The girl across from Clarke made a disappointed noise, “Is that all you got, Jasper? Bellamy never brings girls home, ever. But, I’ll see your ten and raise you fifteen. It was Bellamy who caught Octavia with that older guy. What’s his name, Finn?”  
“Atom,” the boy behind her answered, his eyes falling from the ceiling and finding Clarke.  
She caught his stare and held it long enough for it to become uncomfortable, which wasn’t long at all.  
“Well, I think maybe you guys should be more concerned and not making bets. What if something is actually wrong?”  
“Monty,” Raven said in mock admiration, “ever the angel.”  
“Off the record, though,” Monty commented over his shoulder to Jasper, “I agree with Raven. You wasted ten dollars.”  
Jasper looked askance at him, “Traitor.”  
“Do they argue often?” Clarke asked.  
Jasper turned to her, his eyes lighting up with a friendly yet goofy smile, “The new 32B. I’m Jasper Jordon and I know some places if you want to get out of here sometime. I can buy you a drink-”  
He was silenced when Monty hit him in the shoulder, “Bro. So not game.”  
As Jasper adamantly shrugged his silent rebuttal, Raven caught Clarke’s eye.  
“I hope you don’t sell drugs out of your apartment like Hazy did,” the girl commented. “His buyers were shady as hell.”  
Clarke almost laughed, “No, I don’t.”  
“Good. Then, yeah,” Raven kicked away from her doorway and stood level with Clarke, “Bellamy and Octavia go at it at least once a week.”  
“And about once a month they have at it really bad,” Finn commented, glancing upwards again. “They’re close, but all siblings fight.”  
Monty and Jasper moved closer and Clarke looked between them and Raven, “Just so long as he stays out of my apartment.”  
Raven smiled knowingly, breaking into a laugh as she turned back into her apartment behind Finn. Clarke glanced at the boy, giving him an uneasy smile before making her way to leave the Complex.  
On her way downstairs, duel footsteps rushed to catch up with her.  
“Hey, 32B, wait up!” Jasper called. “Where’re you headed?”  
Clarke didn’t slow down, but looked behind at them as she reached the first floor. “School, because I’ve got better things to do than make bets on arguing neighbors.”  
Jasper let out a half-snickering laugh as he fell into step beside her. Monty did the same on her other side as they walked out into the bright morning light. The sun sparkled off the glass of nearby buildings, shining in Clarke’s eyes.  
“You mean Ark? Jasper and I are going to Chemistry right now.” Monty asked.  
Clarke slowed, “Chemistry at 8:30 with Dr. Tsing?”  
Jasper grinned and lowered his goggles, “32B, this is going to be your best semester of Chemistry ever.”  
_-_-_-_-_-_

Clarke briskly walked up the stairs of one of Ark University’s main buildings. While forming her schedule for the semester, she hadn’t left herself much time between classes; particularly between Anatomy and Physical Anthropology, her last class that afternoon.  
Chemistry had gone better than expected with Jasper and Monty and she was glad to learn they could handle the subject quite well. They’d joked around in what she assumed was their typical fashion, but had offered to help her if she needed it.  
Clarke had been more appreciative than she’d voiced. Chemistry had been the only A.P. class at Pheonix Academy she’d failed the test to and didn’t receive college credit for.  
The instructor, Dr. Tsing, had come across as cold-hearted and strict, evoking some off-handed, insulting, yet accurate comments from Jasper that earned him an agreeing glance from Monty. Even so, as long as Clarke passed the class with as unscathed a GPA as possible, she still had a chance at transfer to Harvard.  
It was the place her parents had met while going to school. Clarke wanted to go, not only for its prestigiously excellent programs, but to be closer to her father again after his death. More importantly, she was determined to get in without her mother having a hand for suggestion or bribery.  
As she walked into Physical Anthropology three minutes before the class started, Clarke could see the room was already full with people both enrolled and waitlisted. She sighed, scanning the classroom for an open seat before she found one.  
Clarke took a few steps forward before stopping, her face twisting into a annoyed grimace as she saw the dark head of curly brown hair beside the seat. 42B Bellamy Blake; what are the chances?  
Sublimating her sudden irritation, Clarke set her shoulders as she sat down, attempting to ignore him. She failed, of course; she could feel his stunned stare on her and the heat it brought to her cheeks.  
Turning a hard glare on him, much like the one she’d given that morning, she could see the confusion on his face.  
“What are you doing here?” He asked.  
“I thought the same thing when you broke into my apartment,” Clarke quipped, feeling her flush of anger flow to her chest.  
The two friends he’d been speaking with looked between them. A boy with short cropped brown hair that blended well with his short, neat beard frowned as he listened. The other boy, one with light brown hair in need of a wash, seemed to settle in for the conversation.  
“You said as much,” Bellamy said with a lift of his eyebrows, adding, “This isn’t general ed.”  
Clarke’s skin was hot but she kept herself calm enough to say, “I know this isn’t general ed. I’ve finished enough A.P. classes to enter as a Junior. That’s why I’m here; I’m not a Freshman. Now, if you don’t mind taking your classist mentality back to high school, I’d like to pay attention to the professor.”  
The professor had indeed started talking about what should be expected through the course, but Clarke couldn’t pull her eyes away from Bellamy’s unwavering mahogany eyes.  
“Are you through, Princess?” He said after a moment.  
With a force of will that should not even have been required, Clarke leveled her glare before rolling her eyes away to the front of the classroom, crossing her arms. She felt him watch her for a second longer, spinning a pen in his fingers that she could see in her peripheral. Only when he turned away to comment quietly to his friends did she feel herself relax, the strain in her arms replaced by a flittering in her stomach as her vexation faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too slow or boring! I really hate when characters go through their school days, but I promise it's going to get really good. I tried to keep it as plot-based as possible rather than focus on school. (I think we all have enough of school in life, am I right or am I right? This is about Bellamy and Clarke). Bellarke is going to be kind of a slow burn, but not too slow. It'll happen; let's just let the tension build for a bit, shall we?  
> I'm hoping to have Chapter 3 up by tomorrow, the 15th, or the day after at the latest. I'm really excited for what's coming up.  
> Please leave your comments! I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Wrong Apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy only wants to keep a distant watch over Octavia but Murphy and Miller want to know about the scene in Physical Anthropology. When Clarke walks into the diner they're sitting in, their questions are cut short by another confrontation.

Bellamy settled into the booth seat across from Murphy and Miller, more focused on the coffee shop across the street. The neon green sign for Grounders’ Coffee was clear enough, but it cast a glare on the window. He wouldn’t have minded if he wasn’t looking through it to keep a distant eye on Octavia.  
“Bellamy,” Murphy drawled in his characteristically sardonic voice, “relax. Octavia’s working. She’ll be fine. Her manager’s there, anyway.”  
It was a small consolation knowing Lincoln was there to look out for his sister, and Bellamy appreciated Murphy trying to ease his mind. But, he wouldn’t settle until this prolonged argument of theirs was settled first.  
“Besides,” Miller began, “she’s only watching after you, Bellamy. She’s sixteen living with only her college-age brother. She’s going to want to act more like she’s twenty; like you. That’s what younger siblings do: model themselves and their actions after their big brother’s.”  
Bellamy shot him a glance, unfairly bitter, “How’d you know?”  
It was rude and short-tempered of him but Miller took it in stride, shaking and rolling his eyes. Bellamy knew his friends were accustomed to his quick frustrations and anger; they didn’t take it offensively often. Even still, he didn’t like being harsh toward the people trying to help him and he didn’t mean to. Worry was something that, when it occupied his mind, had a tendency to displace him from his morals.  
Bellamy glanced at Murphy, sharing a look with Miller as they caught their friend in an unusually long stare with one of the waitresses behind the counter. It had been Murphy’s idea to eat at the Drop Ship Diner after Physical Anthropology, shrugging it off by bringing to their attention how long it’d been since they’d hung out somewhere other than school. Bellamy could understand now his ulterior motives behind choosing the Drop Ship of all places.  
At first, he thought maybe it was because Grounders’ was across the street and Murphy had intended to give Bellamy some peace. But, it was because of Emori, the tough-skinned waitress who was only a year or two older than Murphy. Bellamy had known the two of them connected on some mutual understanding of being an outcast in a hard way of life. It was obvious their relationship went deeper than that with the smirk Emori wore as she turned away and the building happiness in Murphy’s demeanor.  
When Murphy’s mind returned to the table, he glanced between Miller and Bellamy with attempted obliviousness. Bellamy raised a suggestive eyebrow, fighting a smirk that Miller had no objections in wearing.  
“What?” Murphy continued his façade of ignorance for a moment longer before bashfully shaking his head. “I think the more interesting story is what happened between you and Blondie from Anthro.”  
Miller turned the same smirk on Bellamy and he inwardly groaned; ignoring them by looking out the window. He saw a flash of Octavia’s long brown hair as she leaned over the counter to hand a customer their drink.   
He hated she had to work after the Academy let class out for the day, but even with his two jobs they needed a bit more income. She claimed she liked it, that it provided a different sort of interaction than school did. Bellamy didn’t want her having to pick up what he couldn’t and having her studies suffer for it.   
He’d said as much in one of their calmer disputes about her trading a shift with a coworker that would’ve involved her missing her last class period of the day. She’d responded with saying that’s what family did; they were a team and would do what needed to be done. That had put an end to the fight immediately.   
“You mean: Blondie from Anthro that’s walking out from the back room with an apron and a name tag?” Miller commented.  
Bellamy turned around to follow his friend’s eye and as he’d said: there she was. Her hair was falling in front of her face as she walked slowly, preoccupied with the tie of her waist apron behind her back. He couldn’t help staring, stunned by how gold her hair looked in the sunlight filtering through the diner windows.  
When she looked up, she paused as a noticeable irritation flashed across her face. She covered it quickly with the typical I’m-your-waitress-for-today smile as she came up to their booth.  
Bellamy sat forward as she stopped, catching the name on her tag, “32B, Clarke. Do you have a last name, Princess?”  
“The only way you’re going to get my last name, Bellamy Blake, is from the legal documents when I file a restraining order,” she retorted sweetly, keeping in waitress character.  
“That’ll be difficult when we live in the same Complex and have the same class,” he shot back. “Besides, I haven’t done anything to you other than-”  
“Breaking into my apartment? Yes, that’s harmless.”  
Bellamy narrowed his eyes, smirking as he studied her. A strange feeling unfolded in his chest and he assumed it was intrigue; he’d never met a girl like Clarke that was so confident and capable. She was a complicated riddle he wanted to solve.  
“What’re you-” he began.  
“If you ask me what I’m doing here,” Clarke leaned forward, her palms on the table and showing an old watch on her wrist, “or call me Princess one more time, Bellamy Blake, I will call the police, have them remove you from this diner, and arrest you for breaking and entering.”  
“I think,” Bellamy moved likewise, close enough to smell her faint yet sharp and intoxicating perfume, and continued in a low voice, “that if you were really going to have me arrested you’d have done it already, brave Princess.”  
Another part of the skill set Bellamy had developed was the ability of knowing when people were lying. It did him a lot of good and was satisfyingly useful in situations with a subtly obvious struggle for victory.   
When Clarke stayed quiet, a challenging smile on her flushed face daring him to continue, he said, “Walden doesn’t offer enough A.P. classes to start University as a Junior, and neither does Arcadia. But Pheonix Academy does. You’ve got packed boxes in your apartment and don’t know well enough to have more than one lock on your door. Everyone from Walden knows to have that; even people from Arcadia know that. The one place that doesn’t have to keep multiple locks on their doors is where you’re from: Pheonix.  
“You’re living on your own and working in a diner but you’re probably from some successful family. You don’t have to be doing this on your own. So, I want to know, Princess: what’re you doing here? Why?”  
The smile had fallen from Clarke’s face into a hardened expression that anyone with either less courage or more sense would fear. Her sparkling azure eyes were steely as they leveled at him and Bellamy knew everything he’d deduced to be right.   
He felt the ephemeral satisfaction of triumph before it turned to discontent as she whispered, “That is none of your damn business.”  
Bellamy sat back, the sting of guilt sending a poisoned feeling through his blood and body as she walked behind the counter to talk with Emori. He watched Clarke as she motioned her head to their booth and went into the back. Emori glanced over at them, at Murphy particularly, while she came towards them.   
Bellamy hardly heard what Emori said before she took their orders. He was too preoccupied watching the doors Clarke had disappeared behind, thinking perhaps he’d pushed too far into her privacy.   
_-_-_-_-_-_

Clarke opened her eyes with a struggle, woken by something she couldn’t remember in her grogginess. She lost her battle, letting her lids fall shut until moments later a sudden thought of importance caused her to prop herself up on her elbows. Her blanket was wrapped around her in such a comfortable way, she couldn’t think of a single thing that was more important than sleep at three in the morning.  
Laying and slowly feeling her senses sharpen, Clarke listened, thinking perhaps a noise had woken her.   
When no sound came, she sighed and looked to her side where her text books were scattered open on her bed. She’d been attempting to study but had been too distracted by the contemptuous memory of Bellamy at the Drop Ship that afternoon.   
Everything he’d said had been right and perhaps that’s why she couldn’t forget the image of his smirk and how it lightened his dark eyes or played the freckles on his face.   
Clarke picked up the notebook he’d scribbled his information on and looked at the brief sketch she’d drawn after he’d left that morning. She’d intended it to be a more permanent piece to show the cops than what her mind could supply. Now, she couldn’t believe she was considering embellishing the curl of his hair or the broadness of his shoulders. The fire of inspiration sparked in her alarmingly while she actually searched for her pen in the mess of her books.  
The creaking of a floorboard made her heart stop. She was shocked with the unpleasantly overwhelming feeling of oncoming panic. All thoughts of finding her pen were lost as her inspiration was doused with a cold anxiety. She listened.  
The sound didn’t come again. Clarke glanced at her notebook and the sketch of Bellamy Blake. Her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest, she silently chastised herself as the answer to the noise came to her as obvious as his smirk had been on his face that day.  
Clarke grabbed her phone from atop her textbook and tapped the number Bellamy had written down.  
The dark frustration of disbelief coursed through her as she clenched her jaw and listened to the unanswered ring of his phone impatiently.   
“Hello?” The rumbling sound of his voice, mused from sleep, answered.  
“Bellamy Blake,” Clarke said threateningly, “what are you doing in my apartment at three in the morning? Did your sister lock you out again? How convenient.”  
There was a pause before he said, “Clarke, I’m not in your apartment. I was just sleeping.”  
Cold adrenaline washed over her, causing her ears to strain again and her palms to sweat as another sound came from outside her bedroom. It wasn’t Bellamy Blake in her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit. What's going to happen next?  
> I'm really having fun with this right now so Chapter 4 will be uploaded when I finish it. I'm expecting that to be later today (the 15th) since I really don't want to do anything else and this is my day off. But, if I get pulled into something else it will be up tomorrow.  
> (Chapter 4 is going to be so good).  
> Leave me your thought, please!


	4. Metal is Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the intruder of Clarke's apartment is caught, an interesting conversation ensues. Bellamy leaves it to Clarke to decide what should be done.

Clarke slid out from bed and the blanket that had become suffocating rather than comfortable. She let her phone down quietly, too preoccupied in grabbing her bat on her dresser to hang up on Bellamy.   
The chilled air in her apartment made the bare skin of her legs rise; or perhaps it was her alarm. Regardless, Clarke felt exposed in the shorts and large shirt she slept in. She knew that didn’t matter, so she tried to push the feeling aside as she raised her bat.  
Clarke stepped behind her door and peered out through the crack. She saw the figure of a tall man walk by and she shut her lips tight to stop any noise which might’ve involuntarily passed through them. Her heart racing and her blood pulsing through her ears, Clarke twisted her grip on the bat and shoved her toes in front of the door.  
She nudged it open with her foot, keeping her grip on the bat as she turned toward and lunged at the intruder. Clarke swung the bat as she went with as much force as she could, cracking the man where his neck met his shoulder. He cried out and stumbled to his knees.  
Before he could get up, Clarke struck him in the head. The man crawled forward, grabbing onto one of the chairs around her table and throwing it behind him.   
It hit Clarke painfully in her hip, causing her to hiss and side-step the obstacle. She wasn’t fast enough. The man had already thrown her door open and was making his way down the hall.  
Clarke followed him, determined to get a proper look at his face if anything when she heard the sound of bodies colliding. Her grip still firm on her bat, she moved into the hall and found someone on top of her intruder.   
Raven and Finn opened their door, the light from inside their apartment spilling in to light the hallway. Soon, Jasper and Monty had done the same to see what was happening.  
It was only by the light of their homes that Clarke saw Bellamy, bringing his fist down on the face of a boy a few years younger for what wasn’t the first time. Blood dribbled from her intruder’s mouth just as more caked his hair from where she’d struck him.  
“Bellamy!” Clarke shouted and he stopped, his arm pulled back and ready to punch the boy again.  
He looked at Clarke, the fierce light in his eyes softened by relief, as his chest heaved.  
A girl appeared from the stairs above, her brown hair the same color as Bellamy’s held in a messy braid by a red ribbon. She didn’t look much older than sixteen and her blue eyes were wide in shock.  
“Atom?” The girl who could only be Octavia asked, horrified.  
“Atom?” Bellamy repeated to his sister. “This is the guy you’ve been talking with? A guy who breaks into people’s homes? O…” He trailed off, speechless as he looked after her.  
“Bell,” Octavia began to protest adamantly, “I had no part in this. I didn’t go to that party tonight with him, just like you asked me not to. I haven’t even spoken to him since I told him I wasn’t going. I talked with Lincoln about it over break at work today and he made me realize you were right.”  
Bellamy regarded Octavia for a second longer, his jaw clenched, before he looked down at Atom. He hauled the boy to his feet and pushed him against the wall.  
“Talk,” Bellamy commanded.  
“It happened just like she said,” Atom confessed.   
“Then what’re you doing here?”  
“Octavia mentioned you work nights at bar and I wanted to see her.”  
Bellamy breathed out a heavy breath. “What time do you think it is, Atom?”  
The boy shook his head, scared as he mumbled, “Midnight, maybe?”  
“Try three. My shift at the bar ends at one. What apartment did you think you were getting into?”  
“42B?”  
“Well, it was 32B and you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Bellamy questioned. Atom opened his mouth in protest, but Bellamy shook him silent, “Don’t try to tell me you aren’t. O, did you know he was coming?”  
Octavia shook her head, staring at Atom in angry disbelief. “No, I didn’t. I told you that, Bell. Why would you do that, Atom?”  
“I just wanted to see you,” the boy said with a wobbly, alcohol-induced smile.  
“And you couldn’t wait maybe six hours until school?” Octavia crossed her arms, assuming an infuriated expression that helped Clarke see the resemblance with her brother.   
“You should call the cops,” Finn suggested. When Clarke looked at him, he added adamantly, “He broke into your apartment!”  
“What?” Octavia turned to him before looking at her brother. She pleaded with him in a way Clarke found very mature for someone her age, “Bell, no. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. He was just being an idiot.”  
Bellamy glanced from his sister to Clarke, not sparing Finn a glance.  
“Looking to you, Princess,” he said, giving Atom a shake and small slam against the wall. “But I agree with O; don’t call them and ruin this kid’s life over a stupid mistake. I think he’ll learn his lesson. If he wants to be with Octavia it’s not going to be through early morning visits.”  
“You’re damn right,” Octavia reinforced.  
Bellamy added the last with a threateningly hard glare at Atom and for a moment Clarke pitied him. She wouldn’t want to be underneath Bellamy’s wrath at any time, especially when it was equated with Octavia’s.  
“Just let him go,” Clarke said, suddenly tired.  
Bellamy gave her a nod before shoving Atom toward the stairs, passed Octavia.  
“Come on, Atom,” he said as he began to escort him out of the complex, Octavia trailing behind. “We’re going to set a few things straight.”  
When Bellamy’s mused head of hair disappeared from view, Raven turned a growing smile on Jasper. He sighed and followed the rolling of his eyes into his apartment. Monty stayed in the hallway, watching where their neighbors had left.  
“Anyone want pizza for dinner later?” Raven commented, “It’s on Jasper.”  
Jasper emerged from his and Monty’s apartment to slap money into Raven’s open palm, giving a glaring scoff in response to her smug and triumphant expression.  
After they turned into their homes and closed their doors, Clarke waited in her apartment. She twisted the bat in circles, its head on the floor, as she expected Bellamy’s return.   
Time dragged on in a daze of the throbbing of her hip and the image of the relief in Bellamy’s face when he’d seen her.   
She heard a soft knock on her still-open door and looked up to find Bellamy watching her. He stood at the threshold, as if waiting to be asked in. Like that stopped him before, Clarke thought, realizing it may’ve been hypocritical what he’d told Octavia. He didn’t want her with a boy who broke into homes but Bellamy was clearly accustomed to it. Perhaps that’s why he’d said it: he didn’t want Octavia with a guy just like him.  
Clarke thought it wrong he’d think that way of himself but admirable in his attempts to help Octavia.  
“I guess I really should get those deadbolts,” she commented.  
Bellamy shrugged as an obvious alternative to saying “I told you so,” much to Clarke’s appreciation.  
“I’ll get some after work this afternoon,” she continued absently.  
“I’ll help you put them up,” he offered. Clarke began to shake her head in protest but he held up a hand, “Please, Princess. It’ll give me some peace of mind.”  
Clarke closed her mouth, whatever she was going to say silenced by the sincerity of his words. A smirk graced his lips and that’s when she noticed she was showing him a small smile, vacant of any animosity or anger typical of their interactions.   
His expression softened and the flittering in Clarke’s stomach warmed up, from her chest to her cheeks. Through it, she was glad he didn’t ask if she was alright; she was, if not still coming down from the adrenaline. The experience only made her feel the need to take Bellamy’s suggestion of deadbolts even more. Perhaps it was his presence that made her feel so calm.  
She stopped spinning the bat and said, “Okay.”  
Bellamy gave a short nod and moved himself off her doorway, the muscles in his arms flexing with the small effort. She could see his knuckles reddened, stained with a small amount of Atom’s blood. He stopped short, however, before he could actually leave.  
“I’m sorry, about before,” he commented.  
“Which time?” Clarke raised an eyebrow with a quick laugh.  
He rolled his eyes. “At the Drop Ship. That wasn’t right; invading your space like that. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”  
Clarke looked at the bat and began twisting it again, shrugging, “You were right, though; everything you said. I’m sorry about what I said in class. That wasn’t okay, either.”  
“I think its fine; I usually only get sass like that from Octavia. But what about threatening to file a restraining order? Or having me arrested?”  
“Oh, no,” Clarke looked up. “I was serious then. I’m not going to apologize for that part.”  
Bellamy laughed and Clarke felt the urge to laugh with him. He looked down in a way she dared to call bashful.  
“I’m also sorry about breaking into your apartment,” he lifted his dark brown eyes to meet hers.   
“Thank you for being there to catch Atom,” Clarke said quietly.   
“I’m sure you and your bat could’ve dealt without me.”  
“Can you just take my damn appreciation, Bellamy?” Clarke chastised half-heartedly.  
“Hmm,” he contemplated, a question building in his eyes, “no. Would you’ve hit me as hard in the head like you did Atom?”  
Clarke hummed, “I’d aim a bit lower, but yes; I would.”  
She lifted the end of her bat to point for emphasis and Bellamy laughed.  
“Of course that’s where you’d aim.”  
“It drops you men like lead,” Clarke shrugged. She paused a moment before daring, “Would you like to come inside? Or do you need to get back to Octavia?”  
Bellamy contemplated, glancing down the hall before he closed the red door behind him. He righted the overturned chair and joined her in leaning against the table, crossed his arms. “She’s settling things with Atom outside.”  
“You trust him enough for that?” Clarke said with raised eyebrows.  
“I trust her enough. I know she can handle herself. She needs – wants,” he corrected himself quietly, glancing at her, “to deal with the rest of this alone; her and Atom.”  
Clarke nodded, admiring the obvious strength of will it took Bellamy not to help his sister. His jaw clenched, he turned his eyes downward. Clarke wasn’t sure if he was really focusing on the grey socks she had bunched down to keep her ankles warm, but she fought the urge to wiggle her toes.  
“You might want to consider getting a metal bat, too,” he said suddenly.  
Clarke lifted the bat up and their eyes followed it.   
“What’s so wrong with wood? It seemed to work pretty well, I think.”  
Bellamy shrugged, “I don’t know, have you ever been hit upside the head with a metal bat?”  
Clarke looked askance at him. “Have you?”  
He gave a dissenting sideways glance, as though she really needed to ask. Before he could speak, however, a slamming door sounded overhead and Bellamy looked up with a sigh.  
“Octavia,” Clarke named the noise and he nodded. “Will she be mad with you?”  
“I think at this point it might just be Atom. But, if she is, we’ll work it out. We always do. I’ll need your fire escape again.” When Clarke gave him a look similar to the one he’d just shot her, he added, “She probably locked our door.”  
Instead of making to leave, Bellamy stayed beside her on the table. No words were spoken, but Clarke found herself rather breathless. She could smell soap clinging to his skin and another scent distinctly his hanging in his clothes. This close, she could see above his freckled cheeks the true colors in his eyes: bronze and amber streaking like lights through bursts of mahogany.   
Looking at how his mused brown hair played in front of his forehead, Clarke felt her inspirational flame spring to life again. She dropped the bat to the floor again, fighting the itch to grab her sketchbook to really draw him instead of the simple sketch she had on lined paper.  
“Stay safe, Clarke,” Bellamy said quietly, the lowness of his voice sending a shiver across her shoulders she disguised with a nod.  
He stood and walked into the kitchenette behind her. Clarke couldn’t stop the disappointment that sunk the warmth in her as she heard the window slide open.  
A second later, the sound of his voice made her pulse jump with that returning warmth, “Princess?”  
Clarke looked over her shoulder at him and he asked, “Deadbolts?”  
“I’ll see you this afternoon, 42B Bellamy Blake,” she agreed.  
The grin that brightened his face became a frozen memory at the forefront of her mind. After he shut the window and Clarke ensured all entrances to her apartment were locked, she grabbed her sketchbook and sat down on her sofa. The clock by her lit lamp told her it was barely four, but she was far too awake to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. Bellarke is on the way. I can feel it.  
> We'll see if I make it through finishing Chapter 5 tonight! I really want to but I'll admit this is the most writing I've done in one day in such a long time. It's kind of tiring.  
> I hope you're liking where this is going! Please leave your comments and let me know what you think.


	5. Deadbolt Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke gain an understanding of each other that results in an unspoken comfort neither of them had expected. Later, when Clarke is at Jasper and Monty's with Raven and Miller, Bellamy shows up with a heavy and pressing question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chapter title is taken from a comment unevenoddity left on Chapter 4 of this fic. It was too perfect. I hope you don't mind!  
> So lots of fun dialogue between Bellamy and Clarke but not all of it is.  
> Warning: Spoilers for Kass Morgan's book The 100: Day 21 if you haven't read it but intend to.  
> Proceed at your own risk because I worked in some of Bellamy's history from the book (it was too appropriate for the fic I couldn't not do it).

Bellamy knocked on the door of 32B and was answered by a shout from within, asking him to wait “just a second.” He smirked and stared at the red paint. He hadn’t seen Clarke since the night before, after Atom’s rude and stupid intrusion; their Anthropology class was regrettably only twice a week.

After he’d left her apartment by the fire escape, he’d found Octavia surprisingly quiet. She’d looked at him without a word; he’d seen in her bright blue eyes she wasn’t so much angry with him but Atom. He’d asked if she was going to be alright and she’d given him a stiff nod before heading to the bedroom.

Bellamy had spent the night on the couch. One of the things they both disliked about the cheap apartment was its one bedroom. They’d made it work; naturally with two beds and an unspoken agreement that if one needed space the other would stay in the main room. He hadn’t slept well after that; his mind swam in concern for his sister before it eventually turned to Clarke.

In the quiet before dawn, he’d recollected on all the frustrations Clarke had caused him and the feeling in his chest that generally accompanied them. He frowned at the door, thinking again on the same conclusion he’d had then. Eliminate the vexation from the situations and Bellamy was left with a feeling he’d only had once.

It’d been great then, a wonderful and passionate relationship he’d never regret which ended too soon. But it was alarming how Clarke made him feel the same in a day when it’d taken years of friendship before.

Half a minute after she’d called from inside, the apartment door swung open. Clarke met him with a breathless beaming and Bellamy couldn’t have suppressed the smile that tugged his lips, even if he’d thought to do so. She waved him in and closed the door behind them.

Bellamy looked around and saw an open box on her table.

Following his gaze, Clarke explained, “I was half stuck in that when you knocked. I did get these, though.”

She held up a brown plastic bag from the hardware store. Opening it and peaking inside, she asked, “Will these work?” 

Bellamy took the bag from her and shuffled through the contents. He smirked and shook his head.

“Yeah, Princess. Those’ll work.” She had three deadbolts and a chain.

“What?” She said defensively. “I don’t want any more people breaking into my apartment; including you.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Bellamy laughed as he put the bag on the table. “Did you get a metal bat, too?”

He looked up at her and she gave a defiant smirk that played off her fair features in a devious way. Bellamy thought it would seem uncharacteristic with her sophisticated aura, but he’d learned better than that in the past day. 

He wouldn’t want Clarke to act any other way as she held up her wooden bat, placing it on the table emphatically in response and holding his gaze. Bellamy looked away with an amused shake of his head, reaching for the first deadbolt.

Clarke removed the heavy box from the table, her muscles straining yet still capable. Bellamy retrieved a screw driver from his bag but paused. A sketchbook had been hidden from view by the box but he could see now the drawing as clear as the flush growing on Clarke’s cheeks.

“I drew that to show the police, after you broke in yesterday morning,” she answered nonchalantly.

Speechless, Bellamy looked from the drawing of him to her and she hesitantly met his eyes.

“I think it’s good.” He managed truthfully, deciding not to call attention to her lie. In a flattered attempt to save her from the embarrassment he was sure she felt, he asked, “Are you an Art major, then?”

Clarke smirked and slowly closed the sketchbook, “No, I’m pre-med, actually. I love art and I think it helps people, but I also think medicine helps just as much. What about you?”

Bellamy answered while he fought to open the tough plastic; it would do just as well to encase and protect weapons of mass destruction. He silently cursed the manufacturers for making their product so damn well.

“Anthropology. I’d love to major in History but can’t think of many careers as a historian that aren’t teaching.”

“And there’re more careers as an anthropologist?” Clarke said with raised eyebrows.

Bellamy breathed out as he finally opened the package, “I hope so. I don’t want to work two jobs the rest of my life.”

“So, you’re stuck on the perpetual question most college students are: do I do what I love or find a major with a better career, but what type of career do I want when society demands I have the answer now?”

“That’s about the thick of it,” Bellamy laughed before he found himself admitting, “It’s all for Octavia though; the jobs, the school. I want to give her the best I can.” 

He had his back turned to Clarke to set the deadbolt. She didn’t say anything immediately, but he was very conscious of her soft gaze on his back.

“Does she know what she wants to do?” She finally asked, glancing over his confession much to his silent appreciation.

Bellamy shrugged, “Not really. She likes working with people; helping them. Maybe she’ll go pre-med, too.”

The quiet that followed as he worked wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the soft sound of her flipping pages in a textbook, which only made him more aware of her presence.

“Would you like some coffee?” She said suddenly.

He turned and looked at her, pieces of her golden hair pulled back like a crown around her head. He nodded with an appreciative smile, adding, “I’ve got some time.”

Clarke smiled back, disappearing into the kitchenette and asking, “Where do you work? Last night you said you work at a bar and just now you mentioned two jobs.”

Bellamy paused, “Didn’t I write it down for you yesterday?”

He smirked in the brief silence preceding her answer. “Maybe, but I haven’t been here long, remember? I don’t know those places.”

“Tondc is a bar a few blocks from here. I’m still just a barback because I’m underage, but it pays pretty well some nights. The same people who own it own Grounders’, across from your diner.” Finishing setting the first bolt, Bellamy turned to face Clarke as she returned with two filled mugs. “Thankfully those owners like me. That’s half the reason they hired O.” 

“How does Octavia get home after work when you’re at Tondc?” Clarke questioned.

If it was anyone else, Bellamy might’ve grown tired of her asking questions. However, he knew every question she asked meant he could ask the same.

Bellamy took a drink of the coffee before answering; the warmth fell down his throat and into his chest, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue. 

He contemplated it a moment. “Is that…chocolate syrup in the coffee?”

Clarke started a moment, blue eyes growing wide. “I’ve been doing that for so long I forgot it wasn’t what most people did. If it’s a problem-”

“No,” Bellamy laughed and she paused. “It’s actually kind of nice.”

He followed her to the table where she sat and he put his mug down after another delicious drink. Bellamy set to opening the next package while he answered. “Octavia’s manager, Lincoln, generally gives her a ride back to the Complex. Otherwise, I take my breaks all at once to get her. Or she rides the bus.”

“It’s nice of Lincoln to help.”

Bellamy nodded his agreement, “He’s a decent guy. I think he might see Octavia as his responsibility, in a way; like he needs to look after her, help her.”

“How do you feel about that?” Clarke asked skeptically.

He smirked, successfully opening the package. “If Octavia isn’t home before I am, I definitely know who I’m calling first.”

Clarke nodded knowingly, sharing his smirk before he turned to the door.

“And your other job?” 

Bellamy let out a short laugh, “Not nearly as glorious as Tondc.”

“Who said anything about glory, Bellamy?” Clarke teased.

“I work part-time as a janitor at Walden Elementary.” Bellamy glanced at her over his shoulder.

She regarded him a moment before saying, “Custodial jobs pay decently sometimes.”

Bellamy breathed a laugh, “The pay is the only thing that makes cleaning up vomit worth it.”

“I did a summer internship at Pheonix Memorial last year. I know vomit.”

“Have you seen six-year-olds, I-drank-too-much-milk vomit?” 

Clarke made a disgusted sound, “Have you seen used elderly diapers and had to change them?”

Bellamy made a similar noise of disgusted, rousing another laugh from her.

“Why work at the Drop Ship?” Bellamy ventured. He hadn’t forgotten her final comment yesterday at the diner, warning him it was none of his business. Still, he couldn’t fight the intrigue that only grew the longer he spent with her.

Clarke was quiet, “I needed to do something on my own. Get away from my mom, from Pheonix. The Drop Ship seemed like a good place to work while I went to school. It pays the rent, so I can’t complain.”

Bellamy nodded in understanding. Feeling brave enough, he asked, “Why’d you want to get away?”

The silence that followed was longer this time, filled with an itching anticipation he couldn’t stand.

“My dad died about a year ago,” she said and he stopped his work to listen. “I almost swore off the med career I’d planned, but he wouldn’t have wanted me to do that just because it’d remind me of his death. He’d have wanted it to make me stronger; to help me understand how important and helpful I could be to someone. He’d want me to understand people like him who were sick and dying and people like me who had to watch.  
“If I stayed in Pheonix I wasn’t going to get the same understanding he meant. Maybe I just felt I needed to leave home and live on my own. I guess the real reason is because I didn’t want to be around the same people who wouldn’t understand what he meant; in the same city where nothing was going to change and everything was going to stagnate.”

“What about getting away from your mom?”

“She and I haven’t understood each other since dad. She tries to make decisions for me but she doesn’t get I can do it myself. I can’t live with someone who’s going to stop me from making choices about my own life.”

Bellamy heard the ripping of plastic and turned to see Clarke opening the next package for him. Her lips were pressed together and her jaw clenched in tight frustration not meant from the packaging, but she met him with a smile.

“Dad’s been out of the picture since our mom got pregnant with O,” Bellamy felt the need to say. “And after our mother’s suicide, we spent some time in the foster system until I turned eighteen. I managed to get custody of her somehow and get her out of there. We’ve been here since.”

Clarke’s blue eyes shinned with sympathy and he returned it with a small smile. There was nothing left to be said on the subject, he felt. They both had an equal amount of trouble in their lives even if it was under different circumstances. There was an unspoken and mutual understanding that passed between them; one that closed the conversation and let no awkward or difficult feelings settle.

“I wondered why a Pheonix girl like you was living alone,” Bellamy joked, slowly taking the bolt she held out to him. “Of course, it’s by choice. Most people in this complex live with someone; sibling, friend, girlfriend, boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Clarke laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“Indulge me, Princess. I’m curious.”

“There’s no boyfriend, not anymore, at least,” Clarke said with a shrinking smile. “His name was Wells. He was my best friend for years before we tried for something more. It was actually going well for awhile. I almost thought it was going to be okay.”

“What happened?” Bellamy’s brow furrowed.

“He did something incredibly stupid that put people in danger.” Bellamy shook his head in disapproval, setting the last bolt as she said, “And then he died in a car crash a few weeks later. He was hit by a drunk driver; a woman named Charlotte.”

Bellamy waited a moment before saying, “I’m sorry.”

He could almost hear the shrug when Clarke said, “Just one more experience to help me later, like dad said. What about you? Is it always just you and Octavia or does Roma join you occasionally?”

“Roma?” Bellamy repeated, looking incredulously at her.

“Jasper mentioned her yesterday,” Clarke commented quietly, drinking her coffee.

“Jasper,” he shook his head, sighing. “Roma’s my coworker at Tondc and she’s a nice girl, but no.”

“No girlfriend, then?”

Bellamy shook his head in confirmation, but the tightness in his chest and the sinking feeling in his heart made him continue.

“There was a girl once: Lily. We were friends first; met in the foster program and got into all sorts of trouble together. We had fun doing it, too. She’s the only person I’d ever really call a best friend besides Octavia. Then, we got more romantically involved, I guess you could say.”

“Did things not go well?”

“No, they went great. I’ve never been that close with anyone else.”

“Where’s she now, then?” Clarke asked hesitantly.

Bellamy swallowed before saying tightly, “She died last summer from osteosarcoma.”

“Bellamy…” Clarke trailed off.

He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “It’s okay.”

“No, Bellamy,” she said in a way that made him turn around. She’d tightened her grip on her cup and looked at him a painful way. “I knew Lily; from the hospital during my internship.”

He let his hand drop from the top of the door and the bolt to stare wordlessly at her.

“My mom, Abby Griffin, was her doctor. I spent a lot of time with Lily; she was my friend. She talked about a guy she’d met in the foster program; how he had a sister he looked after and how he loved mythology and ancient history. I never thought…”

Bellamy held up a hand to stop her and made his way to the table. He sat in a spinning daze. It’d been a long time since he’d told anyone about Lily. The last thing he expected was for Clarke to have known her.

If there was a brief spell of irrational anger, it passed quickly. He felt overwhelmed, looking passed Clarke. He was caught in his thoughts of Lily when he felt a small hand touch his on the table. Everything she said made it completely possible for the girls to have known each other; Clarke wasn’t lying.

Bellamy glanced over to see Clarke’s hand over his. When he didn’t say anything, she made to take it away.

He gently touched her fingers and said, “I’m glad she had a friend there with her.”

Bellamy looked up at Clarke and she gave him a warm, yet no less heavy of a smile than the topic deserved. A similar smile formed of its own volition on his face as he felt their fingers entwine together.

It was a slight touch and he didn’t know which one of them did it, but he didn’t mind.  
_-_-_-_-_-_

Clarke sat at the large, round table in Jasper and Monty’s apartment, laughing at Raven over the empty pizza boxes and red cups in the center. She’d asked Bellamy if he was going to join them, neglecting to tell him the money Raven used for the pizzas was earned on a bet over him and Octavia. Admittedly, she was disappointed when he reminded her he had work.

However, after he’d set the chain on her door he’d promised to stop by afterwards. Surprising herself, she’d been watching the clock avidly.  
They’d finished the food hours ago, just before Miller had shown up. Clarke recognized him immediately from Physical Anthropology and the Drop Ship with Bellamy, but she hadn’t expected him to be there. When Monty greeted him with a hug and a not-so-chaste kiss, she understood and tried to hide a smile as Raven explained quietly how long the boys had been together.

“Where’s Murphy?” Raven had asked Miller, drinking some of the rough moonshine Clarke had learned was Monty and Jasper’s concoction. When Jasper had said yesterday he knew a place to get a drink, she hadn’t expected it to be his apartment.

“He finally asked Emori out yesterday,” Miller answered, sitting next to Monty and linking their hands together. “So he’s with her.”

Raven and Jasper chorused whooping hollers together and that had been about the time Finn had risen to leave, claiming he was tired and had class early. Relieved, Clarke watched him go. She couldn’t shake the uncomfortable shivers that ran down her spine when he looked at her.

Wanting to know more of him to perhaps understand her unexplainable unease, Clarke had asked Raven what her relationship was with Finn.

The girl had given a grimacing smirk down at her cup. She answered anyway, but in as quick a way as possible, “Finn’s been my best friend forever. He’s even saved my life before. We dated and it was pretty real, but it turns out I wasn’t the only person he was with. I ended it but he’s still my friend before he’s my ex. No matter what he does nothing is going to change that. That might sound stupid, but it’s how it is. Why? Are you interested?”

Clarke had shaken her head in adamant objection, “No; just curious.”

Now, Clarke was joining Raven in beating Jasper and Monty at a rambunctious game of moonshine pong. It was, admittedly, the first time she could remember having that much fun with people she barely knew, excluding her afternoon with Bellamy.

The conversation during his visit had turned to a darker part of her past she hadn’t spoken of to anyone other than Lily. However, unofficial secrets such as those were hardly going to remain kept for long and she felt so at ease telling them to him. Even more so, she was glad he was willing to share his past with her. She hadn’t expected the boy Lily had spoken so fondly and adoringly of would be the same boy who’d break into her apartment a year later.

There was a loud and hurried knock at the door and Miller paused the heavy dubstep Jasper had playing, producing some colorful complaints from the boy with goggles over his eyes. Clarke laughed, commenting how the goggles may be the reason he was losing the game as she went with Monty to answer the door.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Bellamy was standing in the hallway wearing dark jeans and a black button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Since it looked like an informal type of uniform, Clarke assumed he’d just come from Tondc.

Before she or Monty could invite him inside, Bellamy asked, “Is Octavia here?”

“Uh,” Monty looked behind him as though to check, “no. We invited her over but she never showed up. I guessed she was taking the night home alone.”

Bellamy closed his eyes, releasing a long breath like he was trying to calm down. His shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched; everything about his demeanor exemplifying to Clarke something was not at all right.

“Bellamy,” she ventured warily, “what’s going on?”

He looked at her, the hardness of his brown eyes masking the pain of worry underneath.

“If she’s not here, then Octavia’s missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramatic music and maybe even a camera zoom?  
> Sorry this took so long, everyone! I had homework to catch up on and the tendinitis in my arm flared up yesterday from all that typing I did to finish chapters 3 and 4! I had to take it easy today.  
> I'm not sure when I'll have Chapter 6 uploaded, but because of school I'm going to guess in two days (the 18th).  
> I hope you stick with this and the update time isn't too slow for you! Please tell me what you think and thank you!


	6. What is Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Octavia is found and Bellamy is convinced she's safe, he and Clarke share a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang on through the plot! Bellarke is near.

Clarke watched Bellamy sit alarmingly still in the police station. He’d been swinging from this to near-violent panic and impatience for hours. The police had been chasing different leads since they’d called them to report. The sun had risen and there was no sign of Octavia, but Clarke remained hopeful as she, Bellamy, and Lincoln waited for news from the searching cops.

After the initial call to the police, it’d began with cruisers showing up at the Complex; lights flashing blue and red against the windows. Then, police had swarmed Bellamy and Octavia’s apartment. They didn’t look far onto Clarke’s floor, much to Jasper and Monty’s relief that both their moonshine and criminal records would be untouched.

Clarke had purposely put herself by Bellamy’s side. He’d been frantic; crazed with anger that the police were wasting time searching the apartment when he’d told them Octavia had never made it back. When they’d asked if he was certain, he’d restrained himself from yelling in confirmation, telling them none of her school things were there and the place was untouched from when he’d been there that afternoon.

Bellamy had adamantly argued for a search of Walden, particularly near Grounders’ Coffee. He was in a frenzy of exhaustion and panic, causing his teeth to grind together and his shoulders to remain in a seemingly permanent set of tension. Other than her own worry for Octavia, the hardest part for Clarke was watching him fret over something out of his control.

He’d blamed himself, she could see it in the guilt-stained hardness of his eyes, but he wouldn’t be reasoned with to understand it wasn’t his fault.

“Why’re you here?” Bellamy had asked the lead detective of the investigation harshly. “Why aren’t you actually out there looking for her? Every second wasted here is longer she spends alone or – worse – with someone else! If you won’t do it, at least let me-”

“Mr. Blake,” the lead investigator, Detective Kane, had interrupted calmly. “If you want us to find your sister you’ll let us do our job.”

Clarke had watched a silent argument, a battle of wills, ensue between them. It would’ve been difficult for her to miss the established tension they had. She’d made an educated guess this was neither the first time Bellamy had met Detective Kane, nor was it Kane’s first time dealing with Bellamy. His proclivity for breaking into houses and his lack of reserve in tackling people, intruder or not, made Clarke think her assumptions all the more applicable.

They’d made to leave after no helpful signs had been gleamed at the apartment; as Bellamy repeatedly stressed there wouldn’t be. When Clarke had asked to go along as well, she was met with resistance by some of the police. However, in a moment of clarity, Bellamy had glanced at her with an indiscernible flash in his expression. After their eyes caught, he advocated for her to stay with him. Kane had looked skeptical but agreed.

Once at the police station, an official statement had been taken from Bellamy: he’d gone to work at five that night while Octavia was still working at Grounders’ and when he’d returned, just after one in the morning, she wasn’t there. He’d explained how unusual it was for her not to be there when he came home; the only time that happened was when she stayed overnight at a friend’s.

Bellamy told of how he’d called Octavia’s manager, Lincoln, next and asked him if he knew where she was. Lincoln had claimed to have dropped her off at the Complex after her shift was over, waiting until she was at the door before driving away. 

Having been worried already, Bellamy explained he’d then gone down to the floor bellow to where he knew their friends in the Complex were having dinner. When he discovered she wasn’t there either, he’d called them.

Across the table, Kane had considered this carefully, visibly turning over the account in his mind. As Bellamy had finished, Lincoln had arrived to corroborate the statement. 

When Lincoln sat beside them Clarke could see the angry and irrational questions crossing Bellamy’s vexed mind as he stared at him: Why didn’t you stay until she was inside? Why didn’t you walk her to the door? Why didn’t you wait until she was safe? Why didn’t you make sure she was alright before leaving? 

Slowly, Clarke watched as Bellamy turned these unsaid questions on himself; his face contorting into one of self-blame and abhorrence; one more question short of cracking into manic anger and further self-loathing.

Clarke had sat silently as all this occurred, but she couldn’t sit in the station and not offer any helpful information. So, before Kane could reply to Bellamy and Lincoln, Clarke had spoken out and told of Atom’s break in the night before; how’d he’d been intoxicated and intending to intrude into Bellamy’s apartment for Octavia. 

This roused a more inquisitive and contemplative look from Kane before he left the room, telling the three of them they’d investigate Atom and inform them as soon as there was news. At this, Bellamy suddenly stood from his chair at an explosive speed, yelling to be allowed to go look for his sister himself. Kane had commented, quietly in comparison to Bellamy’s loud voice, that he was more than welcome to but would not be able to hear instant updates of the search nor would he likely find her alone.

When Kane had left, Bellamy had stood as still as crumbling stone before falling into his seat.

In that seat is where he’d stayed silently. Clarke studied him, having watched his acidic thoughts turn him numb while they waited. 

Lincoln had stayed with them as well. Bellamy had spoken once briefly to tell him he didn’t have to be there. Lincoln had replied just as curtly, saying he wouldn’t be able to settle until he knew Octavia was safe.

Clarke had been worried Bellamy would erupt into another bout of anger, considering the venomous and accusatory questions he’d been thinking before. He’d only nodded and continued on in his deadened, stoic state of quiet.

At some point, Clarke had reached over the arms of their chairs and twined her fingers with his; giving his hand as reassuring a squeeze as she was capable. He didn’t look at her or say a word, but she watched the tension in his demeanor ease for a moment as he clenched his jaw and swallowed whatever thanks he would’ve given. He didn’t need to speak; Clarke wasn’t expecting him to and she could see his gratitude through the worried lines on his face.

Now, hands still held tightly and the silence filling the air with choking anxiety, the three of them waited. Kane still hadn’t returned, but a deputy had briefly informed them that Atom had proved to be a highly probable suspect. Apparently, they were tracking his whereabouts as they spoke.

Clarke was fighting the sleep attempting to claim her when a commotion filled the station. She heard Kane’s voice speaking commands and the sounds of numerous, hurried feet. Bellamy sprung from his chair in a rush and before Clarke could’ve even spotted her. When her sleep-filled eyes finally focused, he had Octavia wrapped in his arms.

Octavia buried her face in her brother’s shoulder, mumbling something as she hugged him tightly. Bellamy whispered soothing words to her, stroking her hair to calm her. Everything he was doing to help her, even the relief in the set of his shoulders, contrasted poisonously with the deadly, pointed glare he trained on Atom. An officer was escorting him to the back of the station, towards the cells.

When Octavia had calmed down and Bellamy was convinced his little sister was finally going to be alright, he’d let another deputy, a woman with a kind smile, lead Octavia away for her official statement. Then, Kane informed them. 

Apparently, Octavia had indeed made it safely into their apartment, but Atom had been waiting for her inside. When she’d refused to willingly leave with him, he’d knocked her unconscious, tied her wrists together, and loaded her into the back of his car. He’d taken her to Walden High, where she’d woken and realized Atom was high and unreasonable. Octavia had played along just well enough to keep herself safe from further harm until the police had arrived. They’d arrested Atom when he’d tried to run.

Lincoln had left after embracing Octavia and apologizing for not doing more to make sure she was safe. He’d also apologized to Bellamy, who’d surprised Clarke by refusing it and saying there was nothing Lincoln could’ve done more; he couldn’t have known Atom was there.

With the afternoon coming soon, Kane gave them leave to go home. When Bellamy took Octavia under his arm, holding her close to his side as they left for Waldenside Complex, Clarke wished he’d show the same forgiveness to himself that he’d shown Lincoln. 

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Octavia went inside 42B stiffly taking off her jacket while Bellamy stayed in the hall with Clarke a moment longer. Other than a few scrapes, cuts, and a concussion, Octavia was fine. Whatever mental trauma Atom had inflicted on her, Clarke knew Octavia would overcome. She was stubborn, much like her brother, and strong enough not to let herself be ailed and hindered. Moreover, with a brother like Bellamy, supportive and caring, she felt even more certain Octavia would be alright. 

Clarke studied Bellamy and the painful yet soft relief in his express as he watched his sister turn into the bathroom. He looked down when the door shut, closing his eyes with a reaffirming nod for himself as they heard the shower start; as though he was checking one last time his sister was home; safe.

Without thinking, Clarke reached for his hand, twining her fingers with his like they had before. She needed something as an outlet for the tightness in her chest and seeing his shoulders relax at her touch did just that. Her heart swelled as she breathed in and Bellamy met her with soulful mahogany eyes.

He didn’t need to speak for Clarke to understand the drastic range of emotions he felt; they crossed his face in the most expressive and exposed way she’d ever seen him show. Of all the feelings – residual fear and panic, fading anxiety, all adding to the relief and love that Octavia was safe – Clarke saw an ardent appreciation saturate his gaze and permeate through his exhausted features. 

Bellamy turned his hand around so he was holding hers, not just gently touching her fingers. Warmth spread from his palm to hers, heightening her awareness of how he felt standing next to her and how his hand enclosed hers. That tingling heat spread to her chest, flushing her skin and making it difficult to breathe. 

Clarke could hardly remember the pleasant awareness of having her breathe stolen by such amorousness. Since Wells, she couldn’t think of a time she’d felt such a way. The ineffability of the sensations Bellamy’s touch brought seemed impossible; considering he could rouse them with such effortlessness. What was even more impossible to Clarke was how she responded so strongly after knowing him only a day. 

Some people were sweetly infectious, it seemed, and could change your life with a love-like sickness in which the only cure was the disease itself: them. Clarke resorted to the truth that 42B Bellamy Blake just might be her disease. Her hope that he was the cure terrified her beyond anything else. 

This thought quick coming to her mind, Clarke acted with the force of clarity and feeling it brought. She pulled her hand out of his only to wrap her arms around his neck. Standing on her toes, she held him tight; his body stiff with shock against her.

Clarke closed her eyes, waiting for him to hold her back. She wished beyond hope he would, rather than face the disappointed embarrassment of apologizing for the inappropriateness of her intrusion.

The intensity of her momentous emotions was failing, bringing her heart down with it as she braced for the painful impact caused by the unrequited. Just as Clarke was about to loosen her grip and return to her feet, Bellamy wrapped his strong arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

Clarke smiled despite the severity of the emotional turmoil he’d been subjected to and enjoyed the quick exhalation he gave. She could almost feel a smile grace his lips as his breath lifted her hair from her neck.

“Thank you for being there, Princess” Bellamy repeated her words in a strained voice. 

The rumble in his chest from his hushed tone warmed Clarke and made her feel like something she’d been missing had been put in place. 

Rather than speak, she tightened her embrace around him. With how wordless their feelings seemed, she didn’t think words would do to respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!  
> I'M A LIAR, APPARENTLY.  
> To be honest, though, I had an extreme case of writer's block for the Octavia-search bit. I hope all the plot doesn't take away from the Bellarke; I tried to fit as much of them in there as I could.  
> I'm sorry this is late. I'm sorry I lied to you all. I'm sorry if this chapter sucks. But hold on!! The next chapter will fulfill all your Bellarke dreams.   
> I'm hoping to have that chapter up tonight or this weekend? But we all saw how that worked out last time...


	7. 42B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Octavia safe, neither Bellamy nor Clarke could think of a more comfortable place to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is all the Bellarke you've been waiting for. Congratulations!

Bellamy glanced through the kitchenette window, seeing Octavia’s grey-socked feet sticking out from under her blanket on their couch. He let out a sigh, rubbing his hands together as he sat on the stairs of the fire escape. She was okay and safely – finally – sleeping in their home where she belonged. Even so, Bellamy couldn’t rid himself of the constricting anxiety that confined his heart and lungs.

A rattle through the metal of the escape caused him to look down. A flight below, with her hands on the rails and one foot on the step, was Clarke. She looked at him with a slight smile that spoke more of a compassionate sympathy than anything else. The restriction around his chest loosened at the sight of the flaming red and orange sunset turning her blonde hair into a golden circlet. 

He silently gestured for her to come up and she did, settling in on the metal step. Her body was warm beside him, a pleasant contrast with the cool breeze of the oncoming night. She didn’t say anything and neither did Bellamy. They simply sat and watched the sun reflect across the Walden River with an ambient light.

By the time the sun had finally hidden itself behind the horizon, Bellamy found the thoughts in his head were to overwhelming to keep in. He still hadn’t slept and perhaps it was this deprivation lending itself to their relentlessness.

“What kind of a brother am I,” he managed to confess, keeping focused in the stars appearing in the sky instead of Clarke, “if I can’t even keep my sister safe?”

That was what he assumed to be the most haunting of all the questions terrorizing his mind. It sickened him, causing a pool of chilling guilt in his gut. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke breathed beside him. “Octavia is safe.”

“But what if she wasn’t?” He whispered, finally looking at her.

She was dressed in the soft light of the moon now, her skin turned paler because of it. Instead of fiery gold, her hair was now fair yellow waves. Her blue eyes were no less intense despite the change of illumination and they pleaded with him in a way that made his heart miss a beat.

“Look,” Clarke gestured with her head towards the kitchenette window where he could see his sister. “Octavia is home. She’s right there and you did everything you could.”

“It’s what you told them that helped the cops find her,” Bellamy said, still staring after his sister.

“I couldn’t have done that without you catching Atom last night. I couldn’t have done that without you realizing Octavia was missing; the rest of us still would’ve thought she was staying home.”

He shook his head, unconvinced. He was O’s guardian; he was supposed to take care of her, watch over her, and keep her protected. Nothing of what Clarke said changed the fact that he’d failed.

Clarke gave an irritable yet resolving sigh, “Bellamy, remember what you told Lincoln? You said he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. Neither could you. No matter what happened last night, Octavia is okay! She’ll be just fine. Do you know how I know that?”

Bellamy turned his head to watch the stars again, shaking his head and listening while he fought the suffocating feeling of inadequacy mixed with failure.

“I know because she has you. She’s always had you. Octavia is strong because of you. All you need to do is realize that and understand she isn’t just your little sister. She won’t always want you to take care of her; you won’t always be able to. You won’t always be able to watch over her or protect her.  
“But you’ve taught her how to protect herself; that when no one else is there she can take care on her own. What Atom did wasn’t in your control or hers. It’s not your fault. All things considered, you did good, Bellamy.”

He turned to look at her fully now, her cheeks flushed and a stubborn tint to her eyes. She watched him, not so much pleading now as urging him to let go of his obsession with tormenting thoughts. 

Bellamy’s pulse jumped in looking at her and his body was electrified with an unequaled anticipation. Having spent too much time dwelling in his mind already, he acted without thinking.

At first, Clarke was shocked to stillness when he’d kissed her. Bellamy lifted a hand to her face, feeling the warmth in her cheeks from her blushing. His heart drummed in his chest, making it difficult to hear anything but.

When she didn’t move, Bellamy pulled away. He wanted nothing more than to lean his forehead against hers, to hear her breathless exhalation with closed eyes. Instead, he began to shake his head and form a stammering apology.

The words never left his lips because Clarke had grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his mouth back to hers. Bellamy let out the breath he’d been holding as they kissed, aware of her hands fallen down to catch in the hem of his shirt. He moved his other hand to her back, sliding it up to tangle in her hair.

Kissing Clarke wasn’t like what he might’ve imagined; he should’ve known better. She looked like a girl who was as delicate and fair as a privileged princess, but was actually as strong and willful as a knight protector. Her touch as her hands moved across his body was just pressing enough to make him lose all breath. The taste and pressure of her lips on his was just enough to make his heart consider retiring.

The breath Clarke let against his lips filled him with an unthinking desire. Bellamy dropped his hands from cradling her head to pull at her hips, helping her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning against him and kissing him with intensity he was sure only she was capable.

Bellamy ignored the metal step digging into his back and focused on the feel of Clarke’s body pressed against his. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his lips fall from hers to kiss her neck. He heard her let out a shaking breath as he felt her fingers run through his hair. His blood was as hot as the flush in Clarke’s cheeks; it pulsed through him with a speed he couldn’t remember feeling.

He felt Clarke tug on his hair, bringing his lips back to hers. Bellamy ran his hands up her back softly, crazed in how she leaned further into him as he did. He let them fall to her waist, pulling at her hips with a harder pressure he was certain she could take until he heard a sharp hiss of pain escape between a kiss.

Bellamy pulled back; suddenly aware again of the step painfully pressing against his back as he studied Clarke. He tried to focus as best he could with his heart drumming to the cadence he and Clarke had created for them alone.

“Clarke,” he breathed.

She smiled and kissed him, “I’m fine.”

With a strength of will he didn’t know where he’d found, Bellamy pulled away from her kiss again, “No, what happened?”

“When I was chasing Atom out of my apartment he threw a chair to slow me down. It hit me and…” she trailed off breathlessly.

Bellamy knew she wasn’t going to bother to finish as he pushed up her blue shirt to reveal a large expanse of purple bruising on her skin. It faded to blue and then to a sickly yellow but in no way did Bellamy’s anger lessen. Instead, it sparked to life again in his chest with a heat so intense his vision began to blur. Not only had Atom hurt his sister, but he’d hurt Clarke, too.

“Let it go, Bellamy,” he barely heard her whisper. 

He did feel her softly placed kiss on his lips as fully as he’d felt any of her other kisses. Slowly, Clarke continued to kiss him as she took his hand, guiding it from where it rested on her bruised hip to the small of her back. Her skin was warm and soft as she leaned against him, pressing him to hold her closer. 

Bellamy did, slowly feeling his anger dissipate with every spontaneously placed kiss Clarke gave along his jaw and neck. He closed his eyes as he guided her lips to his; kissing her with as much amorous and passionate emotion he could manage. 

When both of them pulled away they were desperate for breath. Bellamy opened his eyes to find Clarke already watching him. Neither of them said anything, but if they did they were close enough for their lips to brush. Undoubtedly, he was sure that’d lead to another bout of intense kisses. He wasn’t sure if his heart or lungs could handle that just yet.

Clarke smiled, seemingly thinking the same thing as she shifted her weight. Bellamy was the one to breathe out in pain this time, earning a questioning look from her.

“The stairs,” he managed. “They’re in my back.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke laughed, letting her blonde head fall against his chest.

She pushed herself off and beside him again as he leaned forward. The relief of not having metal digging into his spine was almost enough to balance out the disappointment of losing Clarke’s body with his. 

Resting his elbows on his knees, he turned his head to look at her. Her cheeks were still flushed and her lips were a swollen red; her hair a mused, cute mess. Bellamy’s stomach fell away into the same depths his heart had fallen.

She was still smiling at him as she asked, “You should probably get some sleep. Octavia finally is.”

He nodded, “So should you.”

“I’ll admit,” Clarke said, her smile falling to a smirk, “I don’t exactly want to go back down the stairs just yet.”

“I don’t want you to,” Bellamy confessed.

“We can’t really stay on the fire escape and there’s Octavia…” Clarke’s voice faded away as she leaned against him, letting her head drop to his shoulder.

Bellamy closed his eyes, focusing on her warmth at his side.

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, standing and offering his hand to Clarke.

She took it with a skeptical smile, “What?”

“Come on,” Bellamy gestured with his head toward the window. He crawled inside and looked out to see Clarke still waiting. He rolled his eyes and went into the bedroom. 

When he came out, she’d stepped inside quietly and raised her shoulders to ask him what he was doing. Bellamy smirked as he rolled out blankets onto the main room’s floor, feet away from Octavia on the couch. Clarke looked at him sideways, an understanding smile as she helped him. 

They were quiet as they made the blankets. He saw Octavia turn in her sleep only once as he and Clarke lay down facing one another. Bellamy wrapped a blanket around the two of them, the pillows under their heads suddenly one of the softest things he’d felt. Exhaustion from lack of sleep and tried nerves and emotions fell over him as Clarke settled beside him.

“Octavia won’t think it weird when she wakes up?” she whispered as quietly as possible.

Bellamy shook his head, feeling a faint smile pull at his lips. “We’ve got nothing we could hide from her. I hope you don’t mind the floor.”

Clarke smiled back a laugh before she moved her head to rest in the crook of his neck. He felt her steady breath on his chest, their legs caught together and her arm draped over his waist. Bellamy had one of his arms under her head, her free hand resting against it lightly, as his other wrapped over her back to hold her close. He didn’t mind the floor much, either. There wasn’t actually a more comfortable place he could think of.

Time moved along, filled with Clarke’s steady, sleeping breaths and small movements in search of comfortableness. Bellamy wasn’t sure why he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, either. He was more tired beyond words and his eyes were heavy with want of sleep.

If he had fallen asleep, he would’ve missed Octavia’s brief moment of consciousness. She blinked her eyes open slowly, stretching like those who first wake up do. He caught her eye and she looked between him and Clarke with a smile. Bellamy smiled back for a moment before O shook her head with a smirk, rolling her eyes in good humor and turning over to face the couch. She adjusted her blanket around her and was back asleep in minutes.

Clarke sighed and somehow managed to shift closer to him. He looked down at her, placing a kiss to her golden head. Bellamy still hadn’t figured out the riddle that was 32B Clarke Griffin, but he was more than happy with living in intrigue as he attempted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! I KEPT TO MY WORD THAT I'D GET THIS UP TONIGHT WOW!  
> So, tell me what you think, please! I love comments and everyone always has nice and helpful things to say.  
> This is the end of the fic, but please stay tuned.  
> There is an Epilogue with even more wonderfulness that is Bellarke and all things we love!  
> It'll take place seven months later when Bellamy and Clarke are official and I only have it planned in my head but can I just say fluff and funniness? Yes, I can say that.  
> Thank you so much, I hope you enjoyed!


	8. Epilogue: Better than Studying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven months later, Clarke watches Bellamy beside her and decides to focus on him rather than her studying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there is no smutt. It's just steamy, okay? And funny.

Clarke sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard with a textbook resting on her knees. She’d been trying to study for the most pressing of all her midterm tests, but Bellamy proved to be quite the distraction. He wasn’t doing anything besides lying down, taking up half her bed and reading a textbook of his own. He was actually focused on his studying whereas Clarke couldn’t stop watching his hands turn the pages; his fingers playing with the edges as he read.

It was one of the few nights Bellamy wasn’t working a Tondc and Octavia was staying over at her friend’s, Harper’s, home. Of the seven months they’d been together, Clarke could admit this was one of their more relaxed and quiet nights spent in one another’s company. They’d argue on occasion; nothing that wasn’t resolved with time spent apart or a spontaneous bout of intense intimacy.

Clarke smiled to herself at the memory of their first night spent in bed together. It’d been about two months after Octavia’s abduction (something which she had recovered from with the bounce and speed Clarke had expected no less of) and the night Clarke had slept over at 42B with Bellamy. 

It’d been another night Bellamy hadn’t been working and there’d been dinner at Jasper and Monty’s again. Clarke had later found Jasper was paying do to losing a bet – again. To Monty, this time, over how soon his friend, Wick, and Raven would fall together. Clarke neglected to tell Raven, suspecting that she already knew and out of her own relief it was now the amiable Wick living with her since Finn had left.

Octavia had joined them for dinner and games, too; something that had obviously set Bellamy at ease despite Atom having already been sent to prison on several charges after a fast trial. Everyone was surprised when Lincoln had shown up, as well; apparently on Octavia’s invitation. They’d enjoyed themselves and Clarke found Raven to be just as trying a rival in moonshine pong as she’d been a helpful ally. 

At the end of the night, somewhere actually around two in the morning, Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia crashed into her apartment next door in a fit of laughter. It’d been brought on by Raven and Wick’s squabble over who could design the better stereo that would trump Jasper’s beloved system. 

Clarke had locked her many deadbolts after them before she’d felt Bellamy grab her hand. He’d placed a quick kiss to her temple that’d still managed to make her pulse jump.

“Oh, god,” Octavia had groaned. “I’m not staying here if you’re going to do that.”

“O, we’re not doing anything,” Bellamy had retorted.

“Like you don’t want to,” Octavia had rolled her eyes, already walking towards the fire escape. 

“Octavia!” Bellamy had called after her, sighing as he watched her disappear. “Lock the door, at least!”

“Yeah, yeah; I got it, big brother,” she’d shouted back before they abruptly heard the window to 42B close behind her.

When a vexed expression had settled on his face, Clarke remembered tugging on his hand; her heart pounding in her chest with a wanted anticipation already. 

She couldn’t have helped the smile that’d played her lips then as she’d said, “Is being alone with me a problem, 42B Bellamy Blake?”

He’d turned to her, a sly grin growing across his face that eased away his frustration. He’d wrapped his arms around her and had said, “The opposite, really.”

Clarke looked back on that night, a smile on her face as Bellamy stretched beside her, sighing. She could still remember feeling those same hands that turned the thin textbook pages on her skin, warm and adventurous. They’d confessed to each other before that Clarke had never been so far with anyone and Bellamy had only done so with Lilly. They hadn’t let it stop them, of course. With hearts drumming that fast, their blood pumping frenziedly, and their breath almost non-existent except for quick exhalations, how could they?

They’d had fun that night, in all sense of the word from the passionate and thrilling drive of being so close; their bodies fitting and moving together in a way so natural and addictive it made Clarke’s heart jump and her stomach flutter as she thought about it. Lying over her, Bellamy had held her hands, twining their fingers together as he’d kissed her insane. He’d held her hips steady, kissing her neck and shoulder as she’d turned them over, breathless and running fingers through his hair. 

That had been after they’d learned one another, of course. Before, neither of them had been exactly accustomed to moving around in such a space and sharing her bed together. 

Clarke had laughed when he’d accidentally hit his head on her headboard; letting her head fall to his bare chest and progressively falling deeper into her fit of hysterics as he’d groaned and cursed the board. He’d laughed, too, when she’d unintentionally knocked a lamp off her bedside table as they’d rolled over. Even to today, Clarke hadn’t replaced it. When Bellamy asked her about it, she’d say it would probably happen again and there was no point in spending the money.

It’d been warm and comforting to fall asleep with him at her back that night, and every night spent together since. As much as she loved the freedom of sleeping alone, she loved the passionate companionship that was Bellamy Blake. The nights he stayed with her were admittedly some of her favorite. 

She loved the feel of his arms around her, and she’d learned the comfort of them that night. Of course, there was the time she’d spent with him on his apartment floor, but that’d been different; a chaste beginning to what led to their amorous progression. 

She’d been drifting off into the pleasantness of sleep when she’d heard Bellamy lightly begin to snore. She couldn’t fight the small giggles that escaped. She’d apparently been loud enough to wake him.

“What?” He’d asked low and drowsily, like those half-asleep usually do.

Clarke was focused on the feel of the rumble in his chest against her back when she’d answered, “You snore.”

He’d hummed a groan before playfully telling her to shut up and kissing her shoulder. The touch of his lips on her skin had sent a shock of consciousness through her and she’d turned just so to kiss him back. 

Even now, Clarke could remember how slow that kiss had been; the time where she may have actually decided just how deep her affections for him went into her heart. Bellamy had held her tightly against him before pulling her on top of him. He’d wrapped his warm arms around her and ran his hand up her back to play with the ends of her hair. 

At some point, Clarke remembered the blankets of her bed becoming too cumbersome before they’d kicked them off. Eventually, after some time of enjoying the warm and compassionate pleasures of each other’s company, they’d fallen asleep. The next morning it’d been very difficult for either of them to leave for class at the University.

“You’re staring” Bellamy said beside her in the present.

Clarke sighed, “I’m not staring; I just can’t focus on reading.”

“So, instead of staring at words you’re staring at me, Princess?” Bellamy said with a teasing tone, turning his head so his warm brown eyes met hers with a triumphant smirk.

Clarke narrowed her gaze, “Oh, no. You can’t win that easy, you ass.”

“Try me,” Bellamy challenged with such a haughty smile Clarke’s blood rushed with the warm vexation only he could produce.

Clarke took the textbook from his hands and tossed it at the end of the bed, throwing one leg over his waist so she was straddling him. She grabbed the front of his shirt to hold her balance as she leaned forward and caught his mouth in a frenzied, hard kiss to relieve her irritation and win his dare.

As Bellamy kissed her back, his breathlessness bringing her satisfaction, he brought his hands to her hips and slipped them under her shirt. The feel of him on her bare skin sent a shiver down her spine, leaving a tingling in the small of her back that made it difficult to breathe. As Clarke closed her eyes, she could feel Bellamy smile knowingly as he kissed down her neck to her chest.

He tugged at her hips, making to turn them over. Clarke backed away, breathless as she pulled his hands off her and shaking her head. She was intent on ending up the victor of this game of theirs.

Clarke shook her head but Bellamy only smiled.

“Come on, Princess,” he teased, “you know you’re not going to win.”

“Watch me,” she dared him as she pulled off his shirt.

Clarke leaned forward and caught his lips with hers, letting her hands slide from his curly brown hair down his neck and to his chest. She could feel his rapid heartbeat under his hot skin and a grin put itself on her lips as she kissed downward.

She heard Bellamy let out a soft groan and she lost all focus. He took advantage of this, grabbing at her hips and turning her over onto her back. Bellamy settled over her, kissing her neck and mumbling how she was going to lose into her skin.

Clarke gave an involuntary sigh. Though she couldn’t help it, she knew it drove him insane to hear and she could feel it in how he pressed his hips against hers and captured her lips for a kiss. 

Taking advantage of his weak moment, Clarke turned them over. Only, except where she thought there was more bed, there was a three-foot drop to her hardwood floor.

Bellamy landed on his back and Clarke on top of him. He closed his eyes, smiling and laughing though he was breathless from both the impact and the intensity of their game.

“Admit it,” Clarke said triumphantly, not intending to get off of him until he did.

“Okay,” he laughed, rubbing his head that he’d hit on the way down. “You win. I give up.”

“And?” She prompted.

Bellamy sighed out a smile as he looked at her, “And you just couldn’t focus on reading.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, bending forward to kiss him lightly on the lips.

Bellamy wrapped one arm around her waist; the other he lifted to softly cup her face. As his thumb gently caressed her cheek, he breathed out, “So much for midterms.”

Clarke sighed in agreement, “I’ll take you instead of a test any day.”

Bellamy laughed and kissed her, letting his hand trail into and get wrapped in her blonde hair.

_-_-_-_-_-_

When Clarke woke, she heard footsteps in her apartment before she discovered the bed beside her empty. Her heart had skipped in alarm, at first, but she settled back against her pillow with a soft smile. 

42B Bellamy Blake was still in her apartment. Clarke was glad he didn’t have to break in anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Tahdah!  
> I hope you enjoyed and you thought that was a satisfying ending! Please leave your comments; I love hearing your feedback.  
> Thank you all so much for reading!  
> (And it was pretty steamy/funny. Am I right, or am I right?)  
> (Also, the title of this is really ironic because I actually should be studying for my own midterm test tomorrow. Whoops?)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new and don't know how to link but I would like to give all prompt credit to sassyfuckingsterek at tumblr.  
> Thank you so much and I hope you liked it! With this show being so angsty and intense and just downright awful we all need some good Bellarke.


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